Mickulin rushed past her to open the great Hold door just wide enough to slip through it on his way to wake Steward Brand. Sharra stood with her back to the door, facing east, hoping that this amazing display would continue long enough for Jaxom to see it.
There! Another long streamer, shading to a yellow tinge in the trail—the Ghosts never had colors—and another! A long drop and then nothing.
“What’s the matter?” Jaxom hauled the door open, the sound echoed by the opening of a second door in the lower, inner courtyard as Ruth poked his head out of his quarters in the old kitchen. The white dragon’s eyes began to whirl as he stared at the splashings in the sky. “Shards!” his rider cried, and lifted his binoculars to focus on the display.
“What are they? What are they?”
“That isn’t Thread,” Jaxom said decisively, “and they’re too bright for Ghosts—besides which, according to Wansor and Erragon, that cometary shower is long past us. And they seem to be coming from one place in the sky. I think. Hard to focus.” He propped himself against the door frame and held his breath. “A little better. Here! Brace yourself before you look!” He handed the binoculars to her.
It took her a moment to alter the focus of double-eye; they were a relatively new acquisition, an instrument that Jancis had recently developed.
“Oh, they are beautiful! And they are radiating from one spot.” She said the last in a fearful tone.
Jaxom pulled her toward him, moving oddly from one foot to another until she saw his feet were bare.
“I said it was cold!” she exclaimed.
“If you’re not going to look, I will,” he said, taking the binoculars she had lowered from her face. “Oh, Wansor and Erragon are going to want to know about this. How many sparks did you see?”
“I wasn’t counting,” she said tersely. She undid her scarf and put it down. “Stand on this. I’m not nursing you again.”
Without looking down, Jaxom stepped onto the scarf. “Eight, nine, ten.” He counted off another five rapidly, swinging round as he followed the path of whatever was burning so bright. “Possibly just another cometary tail.”
“Has Thread ever fallen at night?” Sharra asked in a whisper.
Jaxom shrugged. “Too bad there’s no way I can reach Tippel at Crom. He’s nearly as dedicated a sky-watcher as Master Idarolan, and he’s got binoculars, too. Maybe he did see it.” Jaxom took another long look. “Think I’d better have Ruth bespeak D’ram’s Tiroth. Cove Hold should be informed. It’s early morning dawn there.”
He was talking to Ruth when the door behind them opened and Brand came out. The steward saw the long streaks in the sky and stood as transfixed by the sight as everyone else.
“How beautiful!” he said.
“Is, isn’t it?” Mickulin said, looking up as five separate glowing spikes flared out at once. With a jaunty set to his shoulders, he moved past the three in the doorway and returned to his post.
“Yes, it is,” Sharra agreed, by now overcoming her initial concern. She eased against Jaxom, who tightened his affectionate hold as he offered the binoculars to Brand.
“Did you note the time, Brand?”
“In passing, Jaxom,” the steward said, his attention on the sky. “Whatever it is …”
“Meteors, I suspect, if I remember my astronomy lessons from Aivas,” Jaxom said.
“They seem to be flying from east to west but—” Brand swiveled to follow another shower. “—are they likely to strike the ground?”
“Probably burn up in the atmosphere,” Jaxom said, almost regretfully.
Pretty, Ruth said from the courtyard. I have told Tiroth. He will tell D’ram, who is running around and very excited.
“Could be this is more widespread than it would seem,” Jaxom said. “Brand, keep an eye on it, will you? I think I’ll get dressed.”
“You can’t have been undressed,” Sharra said somewhat caustically, because she could see his legs encased in the same trousers that he had worn all day.
“Not completely.” He flicked his tunic away so she could see his bare chest. “I was waiting for you to get back. Were you able to repair Possil’s hand?”
“Thanks to Aivas, I was.”
“I may go on to Landing, love,” Jaxom said, “but you’d better get some sleep.”
“And you can do without?” she asked reproachfully as he guided her into the main Hall.
“You know me. I’ll rest when I find out what this is all about. If D’ram is running around at Cove Hold, then what we’re seeing is more than pretty shooting stars.”
Telgar Weyr—local time 4:04 in the morning—1.9.31
H’nor and old brown Ranneth were on night duty on Telgar’s Rim when the rider saw the tiny sparkles of light low on the horizon in the southeast. He blinked and turned away. Couldn’t be the Red Star, he knew too well how that looked. Besides which, it couldn’t be in the east: it had been nor-nor-west when it had been skewed out of its old orbit. It wouldn’t be in a position to drop sharding Thread on Pern ever again. No way that sharding thing could bounce back east.
He took up the binoculars—now required watchrider equipment—and focused carefully on the sparkles. They were like a shower; could they be coming from one place before disappearing? That wasn’t what the Turn’s End Ghosts looked like: they were pale and strung out across the sky. Furthermore, the Ghosts were much farther north, nearer the ice regions. He had an uneasy feeling.
H’nor rose from his comfortable position on the upper arm of his brown Ranneth, eyeglass still focused on the brilliant showers. There was another long one. Definitely not Ghosts. Burned too long.
What is it? Ranneth demanded, coming out of his doze. A brown of many Turns, he slept when and where he could, but his rider’s alarm was palpable. He turned his head in the direction H’nor faced and was equally startled, rearing back on his haunches. It is fire but what could stay alight so high above Pern?
H’nor gulped. I don’t know.
Sometimes metal fell from the sky, large enough to cause damage. Like the big hole at Circle Runner Station.
Knowing that the Dawn Sisters had been the ships that had brought the Ancients to Pern had not been easy for H’nor to assimilate. Learning about Aivas had also been unsettling. He was too old for such complications. He wanted no flaming things falling down before he and Ranneth could retire to a warm and comfortable weyr on the Southern continent.
As watchrider, he did have a duty to sound an alarm for any unusual occurrence and this ranked in that category.
Tell Willerth, H’nor told Ranneth. The old brown rider was glad that the Weyrleadership of Telgar had changed recently, to a younger bronze rider, J’fery. Old R’mart had become quite difficult before he’d gone to the Southern Weyr for less onerous duties. Bedella and her queen, who hadn’t risen to mate in three Turns, had gone with him. Tell Ramoth while you’re at it. Benden’s supposed to know.
I will also tell Tiroth at Cove Hold.
Yes, yes, tell them, too. They should know all about such things.
Benden Weyr—local time 6:04 in the morning—1.9.31
The watchdragon reared back on his haunches and bugled a warning, as bright sparks appeared almost directly overhead in the sky.
Since it was nearly dawn in Benden, a good number of weyrfolk already breakfasting in the Lower Cavern were startled by the bugled alert. It coincided with Ramoth giving Lessa Willerth’s message from Telgar, so Lessa was on her feet, grabbing at F’lar’s tunic to drag him with her. Everyone else present scrambled to the Bowl after the Weyrleaders to see what was happening.
“Those aren’t Ghosts,” Lessa cried, coming to a stop so abruptly that F’lar had to sidestep. She could see what had alarmed the watchdragon: long flaring ribbons in the sky, almost directly above Benden. One large burst startled everyone, as if some smaller piece had broken off the bigger ball.
“No, they aren’t!” F’lar agreed, gazing up, his hands on his weyrmate’s arms, rubbing them to
warm her.
Willerth didn’t say they were, Ramoth reminded her rider. Then she added, surprised, Ruth says there is something above Ruatha that Jaxom doesn’t think are Ghosts either.
By now every dragon in the Weyr was peering up at the manifestation, their eyes beginning to whirl with agitation, creating the effect of rings of vivid color around Benden’s inner walls. F’nor and F’lessan joined their Weyrleaders, peering up at the phenomenon just as more flares burst from it.
“All the shooting arrows”—Lessa gestured with her hands—“seem to come from the same source.”
“I’d like to know what source,” F’lessan said, scrubbing at his thick hair, an uncharacteristic frown on his face.
“You’re the one who studied astronomy,” F’lar remarked, turning his head slightly toward his son but not taking his eyes off the sprays of brilliant lights.
“Not something like that,” F’lessan said. “Though it could be a meteor coming through the atmosphere. We do get them.”
“Yes, Circle Runner Station never lets us forget!” F’nor murmured wryly.
“Do we have to worry about it falling on us?” Brekke asked, curling her hand over F’nor’s arm.
“Shouldn’t it be moving?” Lessa said, becoming a little nervous. “It seems to be hanging right over us.”
“I’d say that’s an illusion,” F’lessan replied, trying to sound reassuring. He caught F’lar’s cocked eyebrow and shrugged. “It’ll probably disappear in a few moments. Though the Ghosts usually travel from west to east. Noticeably.”
“They’re also paler,” Lessa said. “This one is getting brighter!” She shivered.
F’lar dropped his arms across her to provide more warmth in the wintry early morning light.
It is very high above us, Ramoth said, and it is getting brighter. She blinked the first protective lid across her eyes.
I agree. The winter Ghosts are higher still, bronze Mnementh added.
“Would the Yoko see it, do you think?” Lessa asked. “Or is it too far north for the sensors?”
Tiroth says that he takes four to Landing to see, Ramoth said, sounding surprised.
Lessa echoed that surprise when she repeated the message to the other riders grouped around her. “Well, Master Wansor certainly should be there, and that journeyman of his—what’s his name?”
“Erragon,” F’lessan said.
“Erragon, to see what the Yoko reports,” Lessa finished.
“I’ll go, too, for Benden’s sake,” F’lessan offered gallantly. “Sellie—” He caught the arm of his second son, Sellessan—technically he should call him S’lan, as the boy’d impressed a brown two Turns ago—who had sneaked out to see what was causing the commotion. The boy was as curious as F’lessan had been as a youngster. “Run get my flying gear. First table on the left.” The boy raced to obey.
“Erragon has that big telescope,” F’nor said.
“He’d’ve been off watch at dawn,” F’lessan said with a grimace. “Two hours ago at least.”
“Wouldn’t he have seen such a phenomenon?” Lessa asked, gesturing overhead. Just as it seemed the splashings were gone, a fresh burst exploded into the predawn sky. “It just couldn’t appear out of nowhere, could it?”
“There have been reports of other such things,” F’nor said, dismissively enough to reassure Brekke, who was shivering beside him. “Let’s go back inside.”
“It’ll go away because it isn’t being watched?” Brekke asked, regarding him with an affectionate smile, but she went with him.
“Well, I’ll find out what Yoko thinks it is,” F’lessan said. Summoning Golanth from his ledge, he didn’t take his eyes off the long ribbons in the sky as he shrugged into the riding gear S’lan had brought him and crammed on his helmet. “Thanks, son.”
“It’s not going to fall on the Weyr,” S’lan asked, gulping nervously, “is it?”
“Mnementh says not.” F’lar gave his grandson a reassuring look. “Go finish your breakfast, young S’lan.”
Obediently the brown rider moved away.
“I’d like to see what Yoko reports, F’lar,” F’lessan murmured. “It may just be skimming the atmosphere, which is what’s causing all the bright trails.”
“But you’re not sure,” Lessa said, craning her head around to look at her tall son’s face.
“No, but there’s a great deal about the skies of Pern that I don’t know,” he admitted with one of his ingenuous smiles.
“I thought you were using those fancy new binoculars you got from Jancis,” she said.
“So I am, Lessa, so I am,” he agreed as Golanth dropped elegantly to the floor of the Bowl just beyond the riders, “but they’re at Honshu! So we’ll go to Landing, where I can learn what this is all about.” With an agile leap, he vaulted to the back of his bronze.
Lessa blinked. “Oh! Talina’s Arwith says that T’gellan is going to Landing, too.”
“I’m away. Golanth will inform Ramoth!” He raised his hand in farewell and the big bronze ran a few steps to launch himself and abruptly disappeared.
“You must have a word with him,” Lessa said under her breath to her weyrmate, scowling.
“Why?”
“He shouldn’t take off that quickly and scarcely a wing’s span above the ground. He’s setting a bad example for young riders.”
F’lar grinned, surreptitiously looking around. “No young riders nearby and it’s still too dark for him to have been seen.”
Lessa glared up at him. “I doubt he checked. For all we know, S’lan may have seen. You know how he tries to be like his father.”
“Let’s finish our breakfast. Now, while we’ve a chance.”
“With that thing still glowering overhead?”
“Why not? We’ve seen the displays. If it starts to drop on us, we’re safer in the Lower Cavern than out here. And it’s cold.”
With that, Lessa agreed and, with one last look at yet another trio of bright flarings, she huddled close against his warmth on their way back inside.
Harper Hall—local time 1:00 in the morning—1.9.31
Drum messages from Telgar Hold had roused Sebell. Beside him, Menolly groaned.
“Now what?”
“ ‘Shooting stars, unexpected, confirm.’ Confirm what?” Sebell said, hauling his heavy robe from the chair.
“At this hour? Couldn’t it wait until morning?” Menolly complained sleepily.
“Probably,” Sebell replied, tying the belt tightly to keep out the cold. “But Larad’s not generally nervous.” He went to the window of their bedroom. He couldn’t see anything in the east, as the cliffs around Fort Hold occluded his view. He did see a light come on up at the Hold.
Groghe! He said the name to himself. The old Lord did not sleep well at night, so he’d hear any drum message and want a full report. Sebell sighed.
“Go back to sleep, Menolly,” he said softly and watched her, with the deep and abiding affection he had for his extraordinarily talented mate, as she cuddled into the warm spot he had just left. He picked up the hand light, found his fleece-lined house shoes, and made his way through their apartment, down the stairs. Ronchin, who was on duty in the Hall, was turning on more lights. He pointed out the window and Sebell saw a figure running down the steps of the Hold, toward the short tunnel that linked the Hold with the Hall. Haligon, probably, Groghe’s usual messenger. He was not particularly surprised to see a dragon settle in the big forecourt of the Harper Hall. He gestured for Ronchin to throw up the bar on the heavy door and open one leaf for their visitors.
“Ruth and Jaxom called me to Ruatha,” N’ton said urgently. “There’s a meteor or a comet in the east, showering stuff. Had a look at it through those binoculars of Jaxom’s. It isn’t a late Ghost and, for all it’s in the east, it most certainly is not a return of the Red Star.”
“Red Star?” Haligon, just entering the Hall, repeated that with scornful incredulity. “Couldn’t be. Father thinks the Abominators are
up to something.”
“Not this,” N’ton said, shaking his head. “I spoke with Sharra, as Jaxom and Ruth had gone straight to Landing. There are reports of seeing these shooting flares from Telgar, Benden, Cove, and Landing. There’ll be more messages in, Sebell, so I thought you ought to be aware.”
“Then what is it?” Haligon asked, straightening hurriedly donned clothes and trying to look more alert than cold and sleepy.
“That’s what we’ll have to find out,” Sebell said. He motioned them to go into his office. “Bring us some klah, Ronchin, will you? I’m sure the Harper Hall will be the first to know what’s going to keep us up all night.” He stirred up the fire and threw more black stone on it.
“It has nothing to do with Abominators, does it?” Haligon asked. “I told Father it couldn’t have.”
“How?” N’ton asked with some exasperation. Lord Groghe had been seeing Abominators in anything unusual. He strode to the big map of Pern hanging on the wall and pointed as he explained. “Watchrider at Telgar saw it and at the same time it appeared to be directly overhead at Benden, visible from Cove Hold and Landing. That would make it very high up, probably above the atmosphere. I doubt even Aivas could have rigged such a display over such an immense distance. So tell Lord Groghe to discard any notion of an Abominator scheme. Ramoth said Golanth and F’lessan have gone to Landing. They’ll report directly to her. We’ll know as soon as she does.”
Haligon’s face was thoughtful, obviously trying to figure out what to say to allay his father’s alarm when Menolly, well wrapped in a robe, arrived with a tray of steaming cups of klah.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Sebell said.
“You didn’t but Haligon’s boots did,” and she gave the Holder a mock-angry scowl as she passed cups around. “You’re very good to Lord Groghe, you know,” she added in quiet approval.
“Then it has to have come from beyond Pern,” Sebell said. “Abominators cannot have contrived that.”
“Whatever it is,” Menolly said cheerfully, handing Haligon his cup of klah, “the Abominators will be sure that somehow Aivas arranged it Turns ago.”
The Skies of Pern Page 15
